Alpha Beta
by mochawhip
Summary: The red R over Archer's chest always stands between them. What irritates Silver the most is that Archer will gladly fall with the others. A look on the destruction and reconstruction of Silver's upbringing in Team Rocket.


The red R over Archer's chest always stands between them. What irritates Silver the most is that Archer will gladly fall with the others. A look on the destruction and reconstruction of Silver's upbringing in Team Rocket. For alphabet-based writing challenge on lj.

* * *

_**A**_ is for amused  
Silver has taken to staring at his feet to avoid staring at the world the Admins try to give him. Archer demands, instructs, encourages him to stand straight and keep his shoulders long and broad, just like his father. Silver wants to say it is impossible for a child to look as big and imposing as an adult when he is only eight, but it will do nothing to change his carefully-cultivated upbringing. He knows Archer will respond with that _look_ - the same one Archer has when Ariana saunters around his desk, or when Petrel peels a mask off his crooked face, or when Proton offers a plate of who-knows-what swimming in bones and red wine.

It's the same look he shows when Silver reads a book out loud perfectly, or when he picks the correct fork for the correct course during dinners with his father, or when Silver dances a precise waltz with him, or when he leans towards Silver's ear and whispers in glee at how wonderful his future will be.

As a child, he did not know what to think of it all. When he grows, he _knows_, and it sends chills up his spine.

* * *

_**B**_ is for bitter

The taste is strange in his mouth, but surprising; bitter, but with a pleasant sweetness across his tongue afterward. Silver understands that it's not every day Archer slips him a treat when the others aren't looking. Even in his youth, he sees the difference between what Archer says to the boss and what Archer does with the heir. He wonders why no one questions these actions over a man who takes devotion to a ludicrous level when it comes to his father, until he realizes that no one asks because no one _knows_. Ariana and the others surely must, he thinks; the Admins are far too close, though they never mention it.

Archer seems uninterested in picking any pieces of the odd candy from the bowl, so Silver takes his chance and snatches another, eyes fixated on Archer as he works at his desk. The Admin simply scrawls his signature on another document and flips to the next one. The work seems incredibly dull, but it has Archer's unwavering attention.

Silver figures that most children would want to know what he's up to. With him, he knows Archer would be all too delighted to tell Silver what he's doing in elaborate and unnecessary detail.

If he doesn't know, he's not responsible. Feigning interest and involvement will surely make his father and Archer realize he has no desire to inherit the business.

One day.

Archer notices the third candy Silver takes, but merely smiles and signs another document.

* * *

_**C**_ is for curious

The lowest floors of HQ are the noisiest, though Archer never attempts to take extra measures like soundproofing the walls. No Grunt here is as weak to faint before the sight of thrashing Gyarados or panicky Pidgey slamming their beaks against glass cages when Archer tests his theories. He loves how far technology has come, how easy it is to adjust waves in the air and send a thunderstorm upon a crate of Rattata with the push of a button. Noise ensues, and noise means progress.

Silver remains silent when Archer tells him for the hundredth time that the basements labs surely wouldn't interest him right now. He's better off playing his father's shadow and moving to obscure experiments later.

The boy is far too curious for his own good. A security card goes missing, some documents are tilted a few degrees out of alignment, and Silver stares at the ground even harder than before.

Archer wonders if he's lost him forever, which is a silly thought – there is no such thing as_ loss_ with Team Rocket.

* * *

_**D**_ is for disappointed

Ariana calls him ungrateful, baring her teeth behind stark red lips. Proton shrugs like it's nothing to him, but it's clear he sees the boy as an impossible brat. Petrel's opinion is useless when he finds Silver's stubbornness so comical, though at least he admits that Archer may as well have the patience of a saint.

"Your father will be disappointed if you keep him waiting." Archer shakes the jacket in his hand. "Spare me from your temperament for once and come along."

Silver busies himself with unraveling yet another tangle from his hair. Archer doesn't understand why the boy won't let Ariana cut it already – no doubt just another excuse to be rebellious as Silver grows and begins to understand more about the world they're building for him.

"And what would he do to me? Lock me in here? Like he doesn't do that already." The untangling gets nowhere and red stands snap, along with Archer's tolerance. He snags the knot away from Silver's hands and works it loose himself.

"I can get it _myself_," Silver says.

"So says the great son who can't even undo a simple knot." Red stands fall neatly between Archer's fingers. An odd temptation flares through him to clench and tug at the fiery locks until they're tamed to his liking. "How _weak_."

* * *

_**E**_ is for ecstatic

"Silver." His voice is commanding, but almost _gentle_. Silver's body stiffens, on the defensive, just in case Archer's soft look is no more deceptive than the man himself.

But there's a hint of tension in the Admin's shoulders as he leans down to Silver's height. As he grows, Silver starts to notice all little ways that Archer tries to push himself below Silver's level.

It's odd, he thinks. There is no one else here who fights as hard as Archer to keep on the highest status with his father. Crawling before the heir's feet seems counterproductive, but Archer practically consumes his footsteps.

"I will be going to Fuchsia today." Archer's words are so brittle and careful, but it doesn't matter. Silver can't stop the smile breaking across his face.

"You are welcome to come with me if you wish, and we can see the Pokemon at the Safari Zone."

Silver isn't sure if his father knows they'll be going out, and it's the freest feeling he's ever known.

* * *

_**F**_ is for frustrated

Few of his arguments get through to Archer. Some may make minimal impact and some may encourage Archer to try reasoning with his father, but Silver has come to expecting nothing as a result. He can't do this, he can't say that – Silver protests regardless because it's better than just accepting his supposedly wonderful destiny without any say of his own.

The red R over Archer's chest always stands between them. The Admin claims he's devoted to Silver _first_, but Silver doesn't believe any of it for a second.

If Archer can't see his destructive lifestyle, Silver will ruin it for the both of them.

* * *

_**G**_ is for grateful

They're alone, somewhat, in his father's limousine as they change cities. Silver tries not to squirm in his seat as he watches the scenery go by, hoping to see a wild Pokemon in the distance if he has any luck. It doesn't matter to Silver where they hole him up; he's never in one place long enough and they never let him go outside to explore his surroundings.

Except Archer _does_ let him go, once in a while, under his own strict supervision and under risk of punishment if Giovanni finds outs. There's nothing Archer wouldn't do for Team Rocket, but there's nothing the universe could give to abandon his loyalty to…

"You are my most important priority, Silver." Archer doesn't look up from the messages on his modified Pokegear as he babbles on. The least he could do is _look_ at Silver as he drones on. "Nothing else is as vital in my life as you."

"Stop saying weird stuff." Silver squirms anyway. He hates Archer so much – a man so manipulative that Silver can't help but feel grateful for his twisted words.

* * *

_**H**_ is for hurt

Archer tugs at his sleeves to hide the marks, but Silver knows better. He knows how Archer works himself to the bone to please the boss and bring only the finest results from his missions. What the boss doesn't know is the occasional scar earned in the process, or the bruises on his wrists, or the strange look in those calm eyes when reporting his missions' outcomes. His father is a fool to miss such obvious wounds – that, or he turns a blind eye and takes them as devout allegiance.

Silver sees them all no matter what Archer does to hide them. His wandering mind says that if _he_ were Boss, he would never let his Admins and Grunts be hurt. He would have a valuable member like Archer stop field work and stay at his desk instead, safe and inside and all to himself.

Silver shakes the thought out before it takes root.

* * *

_**I**_ is for irritated

They have to move HQ, _again_, and Silver is about at his wit's end. His father's business is clearly crumbling, but he's the only one who sees it. There's already talk of expanding to Johto and adding new Executive positions to manage their operations on a grander scale.

Idiots.

He seethes when Archer moves closer to him as they walk freely though Silph. The scientists pay them little heed, hunched over their lab tables and working away like a colony of Beedrill. Not many dare to lay eyes on the heir – no doubt Archer has told them Silver is a being too perfect and sacred for words, and too bright to even be looked upon.

They don't realize the clear trap they're all making for themselves. What irritates Silver the most is that Archer will gladly fall with the rest of them.

* * *

_**J**_ is for jealous

Ariana sweeps her legs across Archer's desk and tilts his head up with a single scarlet nail. Whatever she says makes him smile, though his eyes stay fixed on his paperwork. Her beauty is striking, but Silver knows Archer would never eye what rightfully belongs to the boss.

(But she's right _there_; what's stopping him?)

Petrel's humor mainly stays with the Grunts but every so often he'll crack a crude joke at Archer, who hums in amusement. Silver is old enough to understand the suggestive implications behind his words, and it makes him fidget whenever he eavesdrops.

(He wonders if Archer's heart races at all when hearing such lewd humor, just like his own.)

It takes a while to catch on to how vulgar Proton's conversations with Archer are, once he digs beyond the surface of his words. They eat plates of strange pink things together, with Proton encouraging him to take in just the tip and nibble bit by bit first before swallowing the mouthful without any shame.

(Archer is bizarre and takes immense pleasure in the wildest things.)

The Admin approaches from behind as Silver sulks on the couch. He leans over, breath reeking sweetly of freshly cut Slowpoke.

"Jealous?"

Suddenly Silver realizes, and everything feels hot and wretched.

* * *

_**K**_ is for kind

Silver begins to see how Giovanni makes himself so easy to follow. His voice is commanding and deep, but tranquil with every stroke. The way he describes Team Rocket's mission is hypnotizing, and no one misses a beat of it. By mere habit, his back straightens whenever his father calls him. Everyone in Team Rocket can't help doing so, hoping to reach the same pinnacle as their great leader.

"Father," Silver says neutrally. Archer locks his gaze on Silver, taking in every detail on how the son presents himself to his father. Silver couldn't care less what Archer thinks of his presentation. If only Archer could see how this isn't _important_ –

"We've made a few changes to the Viridian Gym, Silver," Giovanni says, tapping out a cigarette from its carton. Silver holds his breath against its addictive scent. "How would you like to go to Viridian for the day and see it?"

As he reflects on the day later, he's unsure if this was his father's idea or, more likely, Archer's calculating suggestions that generated such an unusual notion in his father's head. For once, Silver lets the matter drop and appreciates the gesture unconditionally.

Viridian's scenery is incredible. The nearby mountains engulf the skyline and the trees are so much grander than its people, but Silver doesn't feel small at all.

* * *

_**L**_ is for lethargic

Warning bells go off in his head when Silver willingly enters his office looking completely and utterly composed in himself. Archer goes through a mental checklist – Pokemon stores are still locked in the basement, the boss is working safely in-house, and his Grunts haven't called him in the past hour blubbering about some punk kid who crashed their fossil operations with a Pikachu.

Silver's up to something, and Archer's been on a losing streak lately.

"I heard you're leaving for Johto soon," he says.

"Not for a couple more months. But somewhat soon, yes." Archer stands from his desk and pretends the loud crick in his back didn't happen. Petrel teases him enough over it, though Archer argues that at least _he_ tries to care about his posture.

Silver is oddly firm in his stance, briefly mirroring his father's form before dropping his shoulders.

"Right."

Silver lies on the couch in Archer's office for the rest of the day, and while it bothers Archer, he does nothing to sway him.

* * *

_**M**_ is for mischievous

Giovanni ordered Archer to raise Silver in a way that made him eat from their hands. Through proper assembly and conditioning, the heir would consume all that Team Rocket had to offer with no effort of his own until the title of Boss was rightfully gained. Archer saw it as Giovanni constructing the perfect world for his child, and thus he gave so much for Silver to eat.

Their roles flip far too fast for Archer to keep up, and he soon finds himself eating from Silver's hands while trying to maintain his father's power. No other man is more suited to replace Giovanni, and he must keep up.

Even then, his blood rushes when he looks away from the world Giovanni is trying to twist and parts his lips for Silver's hands without resistance. It makes them both so nervous to test each other's limits beneath their supposed new world, and Archer is nothing but a glutton.

When they practice waltzing one last time before the Admins leave for Johto, they _know_, and it sends chills up their spines.

* * *

_**N**_ is for nostalgic

Silver remembers when he was nine and still didn't know how to perform a proper waltz. Archer's ungodly patience with him was useful after repeating the same steps a hundred times, and Silver hoped it would get Archer to finally acknowledge how wasteful the activity was.

Silver put up with it anyway. He couldn't do much of anything else in his carefully-nurtured environment.

Silver remembers once thinking that more time with Archer's obscure sense of education meant less time for Archer to work on Team Rocket affairs. Still, more time with _Archer_ – more math, more pointless dancing, more Pokemon trivia without being able to actually _practice_ it, and more hot R lettering directly in his face to overwhelm him–

–More time for Archer to focus on him, more opportunities to read interesting books, more promises to be snuck out of headquarters away from his father's reach and explore the world, even briefly, even if those promises weren't always fulfilled, even when Archer risked his position just for _him_.

"Soon," Archer once alleged, "you can tell me to do whatever you like, and I will follow unconditionally."

He ground his teeth. "Because I'm Giovanni's–"

"Because I _want_ to follow you."

Silver won't melt to him.

* * *

_**O**_ is for optimistic

He swears he'll leave one day and go out into the world. He'll get a Trainer badge with his signature messily scrawled on the back, then pick a beginner's Pokemon and turn it into the strongest beast on this earth, then prove his skills in every Gym across the region. He'll do it without anyone else's help, because he's _independent_ and deserves a chance to prove it.

Ariana cackles out a shrill laugh when Silver tells her this. Petrel just rolls his eyes and Proton pretends like he can't hear him. Silver wants to say this to his father, because maybe his father still cares, but Silver gave up on him long ago.

Only one person is worth telling anything in his life now.

"I'll do it," Silver tells Archer with unrelenting energy. The mere thought makes his fingers twitch. "I'll really leave, and you won't be able to do anything about it."

Archer calls him quaint, but does nothing to stop the boy's enthusiasm. The heir's future will continue as planned, petty dreams or not.

Even with the boss vanishes, Archer is optimistic that Silver will not leave so easily.

* * *

_**P**_ is for pensive

Silver really does leave one day, and Archer has the nerve to not even look _shocked_.

Perhaps it's because he knows Silver will return, which he does. He comes back with not just one, but _three_ Pokemon, who trail his loud footsteps throughout Rocket HQ. Archer gets the impression that Silver's only mission is to rub his accomplishments in his face – to prove he _can_ be a Pokemon Trainer without anyone's help, to prove he can be more than just a future leader of a broken band of criminals.

Archer snorts and casually flips through a file. "A team all on your own without us providing you Pokeballs or any other resources? How incredible. I heard Johto's local professor got his lab broken into recently…"

Silver is far too expressive for his own good and too easy to rile up. _Tact_ is one trait Archer sorely wishes he'd inherited from his father.

"And a Pokemon that most Trainers get as a starter was taken. Why, it almost sounds like something I would order the Grunts to do–"

The files on his desk jump when Silver slams his hands down on the surface. The pathetic little Zubat behind him jolts mid-flight with a cowering shake that Archer recognizes very well.

"Don't compare me to the likes of you!"

Archer keeps his eyes on the trembling Zubat. There's no way Silver has bruised or damaged the dumb creature, but verbal abuse is easy enough to identify. Both Trainer and Pokemon shudder before him as Silver weakly defends his skills, as though he's trying to convince himself that following a long-awaited dream of becoming a Trainer was worth it from the beginning.

Archer shrugs it off and returns to his paperwork in front of the enraged heir. He can only hope that the boy will stop lying to himself and realize his fate soon enough.

* * *

_**Q**_ is for quixotic

They eat dinner together like any other well-constructed family in the highest floors of Rocket HQ. Silver gradually says less and less during their occasional meetings, except to throw his frustrations over Archer's insane experiments or discovering their base in Mahogany and not _telling_ him about it. Archer doesn't know what Silver expects to be told when he's practically doing everything in his power to run away from even the slightest word of Team Rocket.

It all changes whenever Silver storms into headquarters – sometimes to escape the rain, to change clothes, to fill his growling stomach, and always to rant at Archer.

And maybe something more, though they would both be fools to tease such unnatural thoughts. Archer takes what he can and revels in Silver's reluctant dependence on him – on Team Rocket.

Silver eats with the grace they taught him as a child, though with a face that looks pained by following such outdated eating etiquette. Ideally, if Archer did indeed raise the heir properly during his childhood years, it will be a habit he'll never be able to kick.

"Was it you who released the red Gyarados into the Lake?" Silver picks at the rice dish, looking for any suspicious pink and white chunks of ill-gotten flesh.

"Well, we certainly couldn't have left it in Mahogany and expected results." Archer dabs his lips with a napkin. "Field work is naturally important."

"What you did to it wasn't _natural_ at all."

"Now, Silver…" Archer leans forward and laces his fingers, drawing Silver's full attention to him. The heir has been getting practice in keeping his face more neutral, though he'll always have a firecracker under his feet, ready to pounce at any moment. "Our work doesn't care what is determined as natural. _We_ create the order of things. We decide what is worthy and what should be. The world has made it clear on what has value and what doesn't. Only the strongest take advantage of such opportunities. You don't want to be the weak link, correct?"

It's a shame that he has to manipulate his words on Team Rocket's heir of all people – whatever it takes to get the job done. Silver's hands clench around his fork, knuckles turning an icy white.

Archer picks up a dessert plate and holds it before him. "Slowpoke Tail?"

* * *

_**R**_ is for relaxed

For how busy their schedule is, operations at Team Rocket feel rather tranquil.

Their agents are ripe and ready to seize on Archer's word. Some feel antsy after waiting in Goldenrod for so long, but they believe Archer's sweet promises will be fulfilled soon enough. They only need to wait one more night.

Petrel pops open a bottle of wine to help pass the time, stolen from the Radio Director's cellars. Proton has too much contained energy to simply sit back and celebrate, so Archer allows him to spend his evening in the basements with his finest set of cutting knives. Ariana helps Petrel with the wine, though she intends to sleep early and prepare their security first thing in the morning.

Archer partly wishes Silver were there to celebrate the future return of their boss, though it doesn't bother him. Knowing that he would reunite them by tomorrow evening is calming enough.

* * *

_**S**_ is for surprised

"Father didn't care about me."

"Your father loves you more than Team Rocket."

"And you?"

Giovanni never answers their plea on Goldenrod's radio that night. The observation tower is a cold and lonely place to be as he waits and waits.

* * *

_**T**_ is for touched

His ill-gotten Pokegear earned from ill-gotten money churns his stomach when he's forced to use it. Anything obtained through Team Rocket's funds feels dirty on the surface, but he still can't part with the sleek device. The map is too useful, the ability to register Pokecenter numbers is too valuable, and the radio card is too important to throw out despite all the garbage they play now, just in case another _message_ goes out from its waves.

Silver knows they're still out there. The _idea_ of Team Rocket is impossible for the Executives to dismiss – just as weak as his father once was. They would undoubtedly return singing the same hymns and fall into the same failure over and over again.

His Pokegear number is known to only a handful of people. Ethan and Lyra are chatty to the point where chucking the device became tempting, though it's obvious he would only mysteriously come across a new one soon enough.

A chill spreads through his chest at the thought of being _watched_. They would know if he smashed the Pokegear and slip a new one somewhere in his path. He could throw it in the ocean and escape all the way to Sinnoh, and _he_ would still find him.

The device buzzes with a new string of messages.

_We are all safe now._

_You know we cannot abandon your father's dream so easily, and I cannot abandon the people who have chosen to follow me for these past few years._

_I'm sorry._

Silver holds each flap of the Pokegear, intending to snap it apart. A final message flashes on the screen and he freezes.

_But our only mission right now is you find your father. I will let you know when we do._

Silver hates how Archer's made him attached to the rotten device. Regardless, he gently closes the lid and tucks it away.

* * *

_**U**_ is for uncomfortable

One thing that Silver knows by heart is that Archer never sounds _troubled_. His aura is irritatingly superior, though anyone knows he will gladly crawl to Giovanni's feet without hesitation.

Archer did seem slightly troubled, once, when he entered the Viridian Gym after Giovanni's supposed disappearance. He appeared frozen in his own world for a second, and then it was gone.

They would restore Team Rocket's glory, they said.

They would find his father, they said.

Silver took in none of their lies, but strung himself to their words anyway with a needle and thread.

_We have found your father._

_Meet us on Route 27._

_I plead to you._

_We cannot do this without you._

Silver's Pokegear shakes in his hand as he approaches the blustery connection between Johto and Kanto. New Bark's winds sweetly call him back, but he fights against the thwarting breezes and takes refuge in the waterfall's cavern.

* * *

_**V**_ is for vexed

Not seeing Archer in the past month makes him ache. But he still remembers the sharp facial features, the icy tint on his lips, and the way he carries himself as though being carried to his throne.

He absolutely knows that Archer does not look this pale or vexed.

Archer is close to fumbling over his words as he points towards the thunderous Tohjo waterfall. Silver's hearts pounds up to his throat.

_It's a cave_, he wants to say. He wants to point out the stupidly obvious and throw everything back in Archer's face to make _him_ feel the suffering for once. It's a cave, with a few odd utensils and crumpled papers, and an archaic radio set to one of the more popular Johto frequencies. It's no place for anyone to live in, despite the evidence that someone _was_ here for a very long time, and despite the–

His nose squishes and turns when he goes in further. The scent is not unlike that of the deepest basements of Rocket HQ, where the remains of Archer's Pokemon experiments were left to rot or be consumed by the other ravenous creatures that the radio waves created.

All his life, he watched as Team Rocket turned the world into the orbit they wanted. Now Silver feels himself spinning out of place, and he knows that Archer is as well.

* * *

_**W**_ is for worried

There are too many what-ifs for him to concentrate on his simple task digging a hole. It's raining - _of course it's raining_ - but the risk of being caught is too dire to leave this until tomorrow. The other Executives cannot help them; being grouped up is dangerous if the police catch on, so it's up to only Archer and Silver to dig this hole.

Silver shakes mud from his face when his shovel skids over a rock. He should have never agreed to this. The least they could have done was let him see the body before cremation and stuffing the remains in some tacky jar. This was _his father_ and they couldn't wait for him to give _some_ personal input first. Archer argued it was too gruesome and traumatic for the blessed, innocent heir to lay eyes on a corpse, let alone his own father's.

"That's ridiculous." He jams the shovel into the soggy mud. Archer won't look at him as he digs away, earth splattering against his new black clothes. "That's stupid. And you know it. You wanted me to become Boss. I know he killed people. You've probably killed even more. You would have wanted me to rain bodies all over Kanto!"

He's breathless and feels sick and close to passing out, but nothing stops Archer from mechanically working away. Nothing's _ever_ stopped him, even in the death of his precious, beautiful leader.

Silver hates the endless cycle of his rage as he gasps for air, mind spinning at all the things he wants to do. Slap Archer, hit Archer with the shovel, slam Archer into the sodden, sorry-excuse of a grave and bury him and everything else about Team Rocket six feet under. None of this would have happened if Team Rocket didn't exist. He would have been born into a typical family in a place like New Bark with gentle breezes and gentle people – and maybe, just maybe, he would have lived out everyone's childhood dream of being a Trainer and exploring the world's wonders.

Silver's knees sink deeper into the mud.

He wouldn't have _been_ born in the first place if it weren't for Team Rocket.

Archer tries to say something, but Silver shakes his head. It's clear that Giovanni saw his son beyond a simple need of legacy. Maybe, if they had found him earlier, Silver would have seen just a bit more proof of it.

Time is of the essence in their rushed burial. Archer won't do it himself, but encourages Silver along the way in moving the jar of ashes. He slowly explains that no body means no traces. The police having Giovanni's entire figure and genetic makeup would be hell for Silver. This is an extra precaution to protect the heir.

Silver hates how Archer makes himself _unable_ to be hated.

"Pick it up by the handles here – then gently, don't shake…"

The lid rattles as Silver sets the jar into the terrain. It squelches wetly but doesn't sink just yet. He tells himself it's the pounding rain freezing his hands into place around the plain pottery. He tells himself it's the small rivers of water running down his neck that make this task so difficult to complete. He tells himself it's nothing but a jar filled with old ideals and dead eras that he no longer has to pretend to follow.

He nearly jumps when Archer's arctic hands close around his own, but he knows Archer's touch far too well by now. They must look ridiculous when they finally look at each other, soaking and muddy and stuck in the windy rift between lands.

Archer swallows and breathes with him. Nothing he does will warm Silver's hands, but they've already come to accept that long ago.

"We'll let go of him together," Archer says softly. Silver stares down, pushing all his focus onto the jar.

"On the count of three, now. One, two–"

Their hands jerk against the icy earth and let the jar dip, wobble, then slowly settle comfortably into the cool terrain.

Adrenaline rushes through Silver as they hurriedly refill the hole. The pounding in his head drowns out the storm and it's hard to not simply lean forward and fall into the jar's place without a second thought. They scoop with their shovels at first, then finish with their aching hands on top. The flat pile is wet and unstable, but hidden and concealed between them. No one would know.

They kneel in place, frozen stiff from the tempest, staring at the inconspicuous spot.

It doesn't last for long. Silver watches in shaken silence, while Archer brings his muddy hands to his grimy face and muffles erratic sobs.

* * *

_**X**_ is for xenophilia

A new proclaimed leader means less attention on the old boss and his lineage. The media runs itself ragged trying to find any leads to the displaced Giovanni, who has been pushed down to the rank of second-most wanted by the police.

It's far too amusing to watch. Archer won't make any move for another few months, once his newly reformed team is back to its prime. There is so much to do in the middle of establishing headquarters and recruiting new participants. Ariana still carries some grief on her shoulders, but the new work keeps her mind away from Giovanni's untimely departure. Petrel has always been too carefree to let transition shake him that much and takes his missions with relative ease. Proton's loyalty has favored Archer from the start, thus he is more eager than ever to take in Archer's smooth words and thrilling missions without any old strings attached.

The basements are noisier than ever. Grunts rush back and forth across his office in a feverish cycle. Exploitation for profit. It's beyond what Archer could have ever hoped for.

The buzz of his Pokegear takes him out of his euphoria.

_I swear if the police don't find you, I'll take you down myself._

_You're an idiot for trying to start this again. You just want to fall as hard as he did, don't you?_

Archer dismisses the threats with ease. He knows his goals to be true and believable. The heir is just as unwilling and stubborn as always.

It doesn't make the messages stop.

_As a kid you said you put me above everything else in your life. If you really meant that, prove it. Prove it by shutting down everything._

_Prove it by leaving everything behind and coming with me._

_You're weak and a coward._

Nothing he sacrifices for Silver will be enough. He won't have anything else – he knows he _can't_ have anything else.

* * *

_**Y**_ is for yielding

The fresh red insignia over Archer's heart still stands between him and Silver. Silver doesn't mind the divide as much as he did during his childhood, though the iconic scarlet lettering will always be blinding to him.

Archer will never tear the symbol off his chest no matter what Silver does. He's just now beginning to accept that.

"We'll be moving back to Kanto for the rest of the year. The base will have a room set aside for you. Will you come with us?"

Petty excuses to leave flood his mind. Blackthorn's caves are starting to bear icicles and it would be warmer to train in Kanto's mountains. No one will give him a Pokedex in Johto, but perhaps Kanto's researchers would be willing to bless him with one. Lance has suggested trying Kanto's gyms and restarting his Trainer's career on the right foot.

He's always been so weak.

"I don't _need_ to go to Kanto. I have enough here. I'm making my own money training. I have a previous Champion teaching me. I can stay with people I know, who I've met all on my own."

Archer is not the kind to yield so easily, but now Silver is the only person alive who can make him bend. To maintain their delicate balance, Silver accepts that he will likely visit him in Kanto anyway, that he will barge into their headquarters unannounced, that he will sit with Archer and dine on suspicious meat, and that he will rage at Archer's destructive lifestyle and still accomplish nothing by the time he leaves.

Archer has always been the only one willing to listen. As long as he does, Silver will always come back.

* * *

_**Z**_ is for zealous

Addiction to Team Rocket seeps between his teeth. They are not quite the same as Giovanni's Team Rocket, but stronger and more able than ever. Archer is so pleased that he never gave up his obsession. He wonders if the bubble will burst as it did under Giovanni, but dismisses such thoughts as natural concern for his organization's well-being.

The former heir comes and goes like a lost Haunter and few ever see him barge into HQ. Archer, however, always knows – Silver is always on the couch in his suite when he flicks on the lights, seemingly small and curled up but always a striking presence in the room.

He's gotten his hair trimmed a bit recently.

"You're going to fail soon," Silver says during this visit. Archer takes a moment to appreciate how nicely the boy is growing in his legs and shoulders. "I won't be there when you get caught."

"Charming." Archer thinks his voice has gotten slightly deeper too. Silver's stopovers are their own special addictions for all the wrong reasons. "Shall we eat?"

Archer is no longer in a position where he must bow to Silver's feet and look up in awe, though he still wishes that outcome came to be. Rather than gazing upward, he can now see Silver's expressions without any distortion. He notices things he _knew_ from several years ago but never _acknowledged_. It's always been the same look Silver showed when Archer snuck him to the cities for a day without his father knowing, or how he watched in fascination at how dedicated Archer was with his work, or when Archer stopped all his tasks to help Silver, or when Silver leaned towards his ear and whispered in delight at how disastrous Team Rocket's future will be.

As a blind follower, he did not know what to think of it all. Now that he is an unrestricted leader, he _knows_, and it sends chills up his spine.

Silver picks the proper fork and jabs it through a chunk of meat. He holds the utensil out until Archer bites from it, then Archer does the same for him until they clean the plate together.

"Is this the most we'll ever have together?" Silver asks.

The meat's sauce leaves a spicy aftertaste in Archer's mouth. He thinks that Silver must have the same flavor on his tongue right now.

"For tonight?" Archer wipes his lower lip with a napkin. "I may be tempted to bite more than I can chew."

Silver stands and drags his hands across the table until the carefully-arranged silverware is all out of order.

Archer simply smiles and allows them to ruin each other.


End file.
